


cherry wine

by captainchicago



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Dom/sub Undertones, Drunkenness, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 18:13:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4231803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainchicago/pseuds/captainchicago
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jonathan Toews has a lot of reasons why he shouldn't be in love with Patrick Kane. It only takes a few glasses of wine and one Mumford and Sons concert for him to realize that no reason is good enough to keep him away from the one person who makes it all worth it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	cherry wine

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first fic for this fandom ever, so please, for the love of god, be nice to me. This short fic is inspired by actual gifsets of Jonny and Kaner acting like boyfriends when they took the Cup to the concert, and I couldn't resist writing a little something. Enjoy. 
> 
> Recommended listening: Cherry Wine (live) - Hozier

Jonny is so sick of seeing Patrick Kane's face plastered on every website, newspaper, and magazine for miles. He's got all kinds of reasons why he stays away from social media especially, Patrick's face only being one of them: he doesn't take well to people bitching him out online (he'd be the guy that spends a night furiously tweeting at everyone who dared say something bad about his teammates), and it completely eliminates the possibility of him saying something stupid without thinking. It's better this way, better to be oblivious to some of the shit his teammates do, anyway. 

Some nights he can't help but do a little harmless googling, and if on those nights he's usually got a glass of wine in his hand, well. Everybody makes bad decisions sometimes, he's only human. 

Tonight he squints at his phone with what he hopes is an expression of disgust, double tapping on the picture to make it bigger, because he can't actually believe what he's seeing. Yep. That's exactly what he thought it was: Patrick in a fucking luau shirt and some kind of ridiculous "manbun," standing onstage with Jimmy Buffet and the Stanley Cup. 

Jonny likes to think he has good taste, in everything from liquor to his significant others. Which is why he really can't understand why he's still hopelessly staring at the pictures of Patrick, wishing he was there with him, even if it meant he had to wear a ridiculous parrot hat too. That was the kind of shit Patrick loved to rope him into, the kind of stuff he'd never do on his own. He always let him goad him into it, even if it meant he looked a little (or a lot) ridiculous. 

Further scrolling leads him to pictures and videos of him, Kaner, and the boys at the Mumford and Sons concert, which really shouldn't be concerning (that night was calm for them, no scandals there) but it's one post in particular that gets under his skin. 

So Patrick and him like to touch more than the others, he thinks, and immediately reddens. That doesn't sound... It doesn't sound strictly platonic, but that's the whole problem, right? 

The video gets to the end and loops over for the second time, and Jonny still can't tear his eyes away. Even with the shitty quality, he can remember what that felt like pretty clearly: they were both a little buzzed, from the warm beer that Pat dredged up from somewhere and from the fans, who had gone ballistic as soon as they set foot on stage. Jonny couldn't stop _touching_ Kaner everywhere, but more importantly, he couldn't pass up this opportunity. It was the perfect excuse to lay hands on him without confessing any feelings, just the way Jonny preferred it... Until right now, apparently. 

He takes a sip of wine and allows himself to remember as vividly as he wants, closing his eyes and leaning back into the couch. Everything was so _loud_ that night, in a different way than the crowds were at the UC. The bright lights were warm on Jonny's face, and it made Pat's t-shirt cling to his skin in a way that looked downright sinful. He remembers wanting to tear it off Pat right then and there, and so he got as close to that as he could, bumping into Patrick's hips "accidentally," stumbling so that he conveniently _had ___to put a hand on Patrick's chest to keep from falling over completely. The videos show that he was a little more obvious than he probably should have been, especially the ones where he glared at anyone who dared come near Patrick while he was in the vicinity. And that's the thing that really gets him.

Honestly, he doesn't allow himself to do this often, _this_ being sitting around and pining after his best friend, who is also coincidentally Chicago's most lusted-after man. In his personal opinion, at least. As much as he'd like to say that's true, that Patrick hasn't been on his mind lately, it's not, and Jonny's wine chest proves that quite spectacularly. It's become some kind of weird routine, sitting and nursing some kind of alcohol and pining after Patrick, which is definitely pathetic but also something he feels like he _needs_ to do if he can't get his hands on the real thing. 

_Shit,_ he realizes, letting out a slightly drunk, too-giddy giggle. How fucking stupid could he be, he lives in the same building as Patrick. He _can_ go get the real thing, right here, right now. He can finally make all those thoughts about Patrick into a reality-tonight. He's a fucking genius, that's what he is. 

Draining the rest of the liquid in his glass he stands, and almost falls back over. Oh. Maybe he had a little bit more than he thought. He shrugs it off, figuring for the amount of times he's seen Patrick shitfaced, he can handle Jonny being a little wine tipsy. 

He takes the stairs two at a time, too keyed up to take the elevator, reaching Patrick's door and knocking twice before he has an awful thought. What if he walks in on Patrick with some brunette? He knows that's what Pat likes, maybe he went out tonight and brought someone home, maybe he'll walk in and have to see someone who's not him draped all over Pat like-he doesn't have to come up with an analogy to that, because the door swings open and Jonny immediately forgets how to move his mouth. 

Why's he looking at me like that? Jonny thinks, because Pat's got this weird ass look on his face, and his eyes are seemingly glued to Jonny's chest, when-oh, that's why. Jonny smiles slowly, curling his bottom lip into his mouth, suddenly very glad that he decided to change before coming over. His white t-shirts do tend to have that effect on people, and it looks good on Patrick, who he swears flushes a little when he pushes past him and into the kitchen. 

"Fuck, Pat," he says, and his voice is more gravelly than usual, which makes Patrick's eyes widen. Jonny grabs a fistful of Patrick's shirt and closes the door by pressing him up against it, close enough to feel the heat radiating off of Patrick's skin. 

"Jonny," Patrick says, swallowing hard, and Jon gets distracted by the way the long column of his throat bobs when he does so. "Jonny, are you drunk?" 

Patrick sounds far too sober for a Friday night, which is suspicious enough, Jonny thinks, slightly loosening up on his hold of Pat's shirt. "Why aren't you?" he fires back, which sounds even stupider out loud than it did in his head, and Patrick's eyebrows reach all the way up to his stupid receding hairline. Patrick laughs his loud, obnoxious laugh, and it loosens a knot Jonny didn't know he had in his chest. Patrick shoves at Jonny, pressing his back into the kitchen table, and _oh,_ Jonny's eyes widen, because Patrick's in his space, his hips are brushing Jonny's with every breath he takes, and Jonny's human, after all, so he kisses him with all he's got before he's forced to answer that question. 

It lasts about three seconds before Patrick pulls away. 

__"Fuck," he blurts out before he can stop and think, looking anywhere but Patrick's face, closing his eyes and trying not to look as disappointed as he feels. He's actually shaking and Patrick still hasn't moved, he's so close that Jonny can smell his cologne, can watch his chest rise and fall. The scent, usually comforting, makes his stomach roll._ _

__"Stop," Patrick breathes, and Jonny swears his heart stutters in his chest. He opens his eyes a tiny bit just as Patrick places his hands on Jonny's cheeks, all warm and calloused and Jonny is so relieved for some kind of contact that he actually leans into the touch, pressing his face into Pat's hand with a small sigh. This gets a curious reaction out of Patrick, who's eyes go darker as he squints at Jonny, who squirms under his gaze._ _

__"You're stupid," Jonny tells him, and Patrick laughs again, filling the kitchen with the warm sound. "Yeah?" he responds, tugging a hand through his hair in a way that shouldn't be cute, but is hopelessly endearing to Jonny._ _

__"Come on." Patrick loops his long fingers around Jonny's wrist and tugs on his arm, pulling him down the hall. Jonny considers himself the luckiest person in the whole fucking world when he realizes Patrick is dragging him to his bedroom, and he didn't even have to ask. That feeling quickly fades when Patrick shuts the door behind him and doesn't immediately start taking his clothes off like Jonny expected._ _

__"Sit," Patrick says evenly, gesturing at his bed. Jonny just stares at him, dumbfounded, until Patrick speaks again. "Jonny, trust me," he repeats. His voice is calm, quiet, and he looks far too put together for Jonny's taste. Hello, he practically tackled him in his own kitchen, that should've gotten him, like, _excited,_ right? Jonny shakes his head and shuffles his way over to Patrick's bed, flopping down against the pillows. If Patrick is going to put him in time out or some shit, he's at least going to get comfortable. _ _

__Patrick disappears into the bathroom for a second, and Jonny starts to feel a little awkward, laying here on Pat's bed like a maiden waiting to be ravished or something. When he comes back into the room and crawls into the bed beside Jonny he can smell mint, which means that he went in there just to brush his teeth. What a dork._ _

__"Talk to me."_ _

__Patrick's breath is warm on the back of his neck, and his hands are roaming all over Jonny's skin, tracing little circles up and down his spine, pressing his front into Jonny's ass, which he doesn't fail to notice... in the slightest._ _

__Talk? What the fuck is this? He's supposed to be the one with the communication skills, not Patrick. The one time that Jonny doesn't want to talk it out; he just wants to get Patrick's mouth on him, now he wants Jonny to vent out his feelings. _Awesome._ _ _

__"You're always all over everyone," he blurts out, because the little massage Patrick is giving him feels really nice, and he suddenly feels very warm and sleepy. "And you look so fucking ridiculous with that hair, but you finally shaved off that goddamn beard, so that's good. I have to watch you go out every night and hang onto people who aren't me, and sometimes all I want is for you to look at me the way you look at-" Jonny stops in the middle of that sentence, because to say that they don't exchange heated glances pretty often would be a boldfaced lie._ _

__"Jonny," Patrick says against his skin, skimming his lips against the nape of his neck, his voice low like Jonny's never heard it before. It stirs something in his stomach, and the low hum of arousal that's been simmering within him for days, weeks at a time threatens to burst into flames at any moment._ _

__"Say something," he grits out back at Patrick, who just chuckles at him and presses a kiss lower on his back, "other than my name."_ _

__Jonny attempts to turn around and look Patrick in the face, tell him his exact intentions for tonight, but a strong arm slides around his waist before he can move. "Not tonight," Patrick rasps, clearing his throat, and Jonny seriously begins to doubt his skills, because he's right here in Pat's bed and now he doesn't even want him? "Shhh." Oops. He hadn't realized he said that sentence out loud. "Of course I _want_ you," he continues, flipping Jonny around so can finally, finally look him in the eyes. He's so used to seeing Patrick under the harsh fluorescent lights of the arena or through the visor of his helmet that it's a little shocking seeing him here like this, in the dim light of the bedside lamp. He looks... _ _

__Patrick stifles a laugh, shifting his weight and slowly stroking the tip of his thumb over Jonny's top lip. He trembles, looking right into Patrick's eyes, thinking he'd be okay if he never got out of this bed, sex or not._ _

__"I'll be here in the morning." And that's enough for Jonny, who falls asleep to the soft sound of Patrick snoring beside him. It's possibly the best lullaby he's ever heard._ _

__To his teammates dismay, even during the offseason when Jonny wakes up, it's usually at least a few minutes before the sun is even staring to rise into the sky. When he hears Patrick stirring beside him, he opens his eyes to bright sunlight streaming through the window. "Morning, sunshine," Patrick mumbles into Jonny's hair, plastering himself even harder against Jonny's back, where he had remained for the entire night. (Even though Jonny's way taller, it figures that Patrick would insist on being the big spoon. It just makes sense. Short people are pretty bossy.) Jonny freezes for one second, because... um, well. It seems that Patrick is happy to see him, ahem. Which is good, but also weird, because Pat wouldn't even kiss him last night._ _

__"Hi," Jonny says, turning onto his other side. Patrick's sleepy expression gets a little more alert when he decides to test the boundaries and slide his hand all the way down Patrick's chest, just below his bellybutton. Patrick reacts almost immediately, wrapping his hand around Jonny's wrist just like the night before. Control freak, Jonny thinks to himself, but it sends a thrill through him, knowing that Patrick is running the show (or something)._ _

__"I didn't fuck you last night for a reason," Patrick says plainly, like he's discussing a play with Jonny or something. The words go straight down, so to speak, and it just figured that with a mouth like that, Patrick Kane would be good at dirty talking, too. Fuck Jonny's life, but also, _fuck Jonny's life._ _ _

__"You're..." Pat messes with his hair again, looking down at the sheets instead of Jonny's face. He fixes that quickly, tilting Pat's chin back up, smiling encouragingly while swallowing back butterflies of his own. "I didn't want to mess this up. If I was finally going to do this, it wasn't going to be just a hookup."_ _

__Jonny gets stuck on the word _finally_ for a moment, because that means Patrick has wanted this for a while too, and that opens up a world of possibilities. _ _

__"But also," he continues, and Jonny snaps back into the present, because now Patrick's fingertips are digging into his hips and he's wearing Jonny's favorite up to no good grin while he speaks. "Because your lips tasted like shitty wine, and I didn't want this... Experience," he drawls, stretching out the word with a gleam in his eye, "to be muted. I wanted our first to be something that you remember for a long, long time, Jonny." And fuck, if Patrick keeps talking in that tone, he's never going to be able to last for more than five minutes._ _

__Then Patrick kisses him, and everything else besides the two of them fitting together like pieces of a puzzle quickly becomes the last thing on Jonny's mind._ _

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi at http://captainchicago.tumblr.com and we can talk about hockey for as long as you want. 
> 
> P.S., those of you who haven't googled "Jonathan Toews in a white t-shirt" do it now.


End file.
